


Built a world around you

by kat_fanfic



Category: Degrassi: Next Class
Genre: Fix-It, Fluffy Ending, Future Fic, Getting Back Together, M/M, Post-Break Up, Post-Graduation, Romance, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-14 06:42:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16487705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kat_fanfic/pseuds/kat_fanfic
Summary: In a way, Miles had learned more from Tristan about what it meant to love someone than he ever had from his parents.





	Built a world around you

**Author's Note:**

> Fell into Triles, can't seem to get up. Help? /o\

It took almost a year for Tristan to respond to any of his messages, but Miles wasn’t perturbed by that fact. He just kept on doing what he’d done from the very second he’d set foot on European soil - he texted Tristan whenever the mood struck, sent him pictures and little anecdotal stories about all the funny cultural differences he encountered. 

It was funny, in a sad way, because Miles had never been the check-in-just-for-the-hell-of-it kind of boyfriend. Even after the accident, when he’d made sure to always be available to Tristan, his messages had been short, to the point, and almost clinical. 

Tristan had always been the romantic, cute one in their relationship and it was only now, when Miles would pour over those old conversations in the dead of the night because homesickness wouldn’t let him sleep, that he really noticed how one-sided a lot of their exchanges had been. One such instance in particular bothered him to the point of being painful.

 **family sucks** he had written, at 01:34 am on a school night, pre-accident. It had taken Tristan two minutes to reply. Just enough time to wake up from a deep sleep and be coherent enough to be able to type, Miles suspected.

**Oh noes. ☹ Want to come over for some cuddles?**

**eh** , had been his charming reply. **send me a pic instead?**

There had been a significant delay, and then Tris had indeed sent him a picture. Dark hair tousled and curled around his forehead, he had peeked sideways into the camera with that adorable half-smile Miles loved so much. That picture had quickly become his favorite and had been his phone background for a long time. 

But that night, all he’d replied was: **triiiiis, send a good one!**

That had gotten him an eyeroll emoji and a short but sweet voice message of Tristan wishing him a good night in a sleepy, extra-deep, kind of gravelly voice. That voice had done things to Miles. As it turned out, he hadn’t needed another picture after all.

So while it kind of was a good memory for Miles, he couldn’t help but be embarrassed by his behavior. In a lot of ways, he had actually been a crappy boyfriend to Tristan, and it said a lot about Tris’ feelings for him that he’d stayed with him during all the shit he’d put him through. 

Sure, Tristan Milligan was no angel and had done his fair share of stupid things. He could be harsh sometimes, and quick to judge. But he was also bold and daring, and ready to accept the consequences of his actions. Tristan had never been afraid to apologize, not like Miles was. 

In a way, he had learned more from Tristan about what it meant to love someone than he ever had from his parents. 

So what Miles was doing now was his way to make up for all those selfish moments, for all the missed opportunities while they’d still been together. 

He texted Tristan, whenever something made him think of him. He wrote _miss you_ in the caption of a candid of him gazing up at Eiffel tower that Chewie had taken during the summer. He sent paragraphs of his work, snapshots of London, and short videos of himself in which he never said much, but which were intensely intimate, and vulnerable, and designed to willingly show a side of him that too often he had kept hidden from the most important person in his life.

He never expected a reply, he really didn’t. Not after Tristan had made it so abundantly clear that he needed time and space to look after himself, to get back on his feet. 

At the time, Miles hadn’t understood what Tristan was trying to tell him. He had rebelled against what he felt to be an unfair rejection. After all, he had been to one to stand by Tristan through the worst of times, right? And now that he was getting back on his feet, he was breaking up with Miles, pushing him away right when they were finally able to start their life together? It didn’t compute with him, made him furious, and for a little while, he had been close to lashing out at Tristan, all his frustration, fear, and anxiety threatening to burst free in a way that would have damaged their relationship irreparably. 

And then he’d realized one important thing. He was being selfish. Because while he had tried his best to be there for Tristan, fact was that he had also cheated on him. Hell, in a way he had even made his recovery all about himself. 

Miles had needed Tristan to get better, because he hadn’t been able to function properly without his boyfriend. Tristan had been his rock and sole support for so long that the absence of it almost drove him to the brink. It wasn’t an easy thing to admit, even to himself, that after everything they had been through together, they both still had a lot of growing up to do before they could even think about building a life with each other.

The breakup had been necessary for both of them, and though it had taken him awhile to feel that way, now Miles couldn’t help but be thankful that Tristan had had the guts to go through with it.

But if there was one thing his new independence of living in another country had taught him, it was that nothing was ever final. He had gotten a lot of second chances in his life - quite a few of them given to him by Tristan - and if they were meant to be, then they would find a way to make that happen. After all, they hadn’t parted in a bad way, and there still was a lot of love between them.

What he also did know for a fact, was that none of his messages ever went unread for long. And sometimes he even caught a glimpse of Tristan’s status flickering into **online** for a split second. Strangely, that little bit of connection was enough for Miles. Just knowing that Tristan was there, was still a part of his world - if a silent one - was enough. 

And then, on a cold and gloomy fall day, completely out of the blue, Tristan sent him a message. 

Miles stopped short, halfway across campus. He stared at his phone, suddenly terrified to find out what it was Tristan had broken his self-imposed radio silence for. His heart threatened to burst out of his chest it was beating so hard. 

“Miles? You alright there, mate?”

Startled out of his stupor, Miles looked up to see Aidan come toward him. As usual, the other man had a big smile on his face, and not for the first time, Miles thought that there could be something between them - if he weren’t head over heels hung up on his ex-boyfriend.

“Err,” he croaked around the sudden lump in his throat. “Tristan texted me.”

Aidan’s eyes went wide and he craned his head to catch a glimpse of his phone screen. “Really? Oh, wow, that’s a first, huh?”

“Yeah,” Miles breathed.

“So?” Aidan asked, waving his hands in front of his face. “Don’t keep me hanging here, Hollingsworth, what did he say?”

Miles huffed out a laugh. “I don’t know yet. I’m, uh, sort of afraid to look?”

“Ah.” Aidan nodded. “I get it. What if it’s the ultimate break-up text, yeah? Like a ‘hullo mate, got a new beau, see you around’ kind of thing?”

Miles gulped. “Sure”, he replied weakly. “That’s what I was worried about.”

Aidan’s eyes went wide. “Ah shit, you weren’t, though, were you? Shit. Forget what I said, I’m sure it’s nothing like that at all.”

“Right.” Miles took a deep breath and opened the message. It was a single picture, showing two documents side by side, proclaiming Tristan Milligan to be both a full graduate of Degrassi High and to be released from the Toronto Rehabilitation Institute with a 92% recovery rate.

“Holy shit,” Miles breathed. He tilted the screen to let Aidan see. 

Aidan let out a long breath. “Wow. That’s huge, right?”

“It is.” Miles bit his lip. Before he could think better of it, he pressed the little tab to record a voice message. “Tristan, you’re a rockstar! I can’t believe you did that in not even a year.” He took a deep breath, laughing a little at the way his eyes were burning. “I’m so fucking proud of you, Tris, you have no idea. You’re the strongest person I know, and the bravest, and I can only hope that Chewy is right and that one day, we will find our way back to each other. Because you mean the world to me, Tris, and I have missed you so damn much.” His voice gave out then, and he had to clear his throat a couple of times before he was able to speak again. “Yeah. Anyway. Congratulations, babe.” He released the little tab and the short recording whooshed forth on its way to Toronto. 

Miles stared at his phone for a little bit, hoping to see Tristan come online, but then nerves got the better of him and he shut the app with a quick flick of his finger. He was still trying to find even a semblance of calm when he noticed that Aidan was staring at him with a strangely sad expression on his face. 

Self-conscious now, Miles brushed the wetness from his eyes. ”What?” he huffed when that failed to get a response out of his friend.

Aidan slowly shook his head. “Nothing. I just hadn’t realized you loved him that much, is all.” The resignation in his voice surprised Miles, but then, he’d never been very good at noticing real affection.

“Aidan…”

“Nope,” the other man interrupted him cheerfully, melancholy completely gone from his voice. “Not doing the pity thing. It’s not like you didn’t warn me right from the start that your heart was already taken.”

Miles remembered no such conversation, but then Aidan had always been scarily perceptive. He was about to come up with something - anything - to say, when the phone in his hand began to vibrate. 

Still distracted by Aidan and their weird non-conversation, Miles swiped the little slider to the side before he even processed what the caller ID was telling him. “Yeah?” he mumbled, making a grab for Aidan who had turned to go, but missing by a kilometer when that achingly familiar voice reached his ear.

“Hey, Miles.”

And just like that, every bit of strength he had ever possessed went out of him. “Tristan”, he breathed, watching Aidan walk away. He had a vague thought of _I’m going to be so late to class_ , but it was gone as quick as it had come. “Hey. I can’t believe you actually called.”

“How could I not, after listening to your message?” It was clear to him that Tristan was smiling. Miles could just picture him, sitting in his room, snuggled up in one of the oversized sweatshirts he preferred wearing when no-one was looking. 

“Yeah, that was sort of a spur of the moment thing,” Miles answered.

“So you didn’t mean it?”

“No,” Miles protested immediately, “I mean, yes, of course I meant it. I meant every word, I swear.”

There was a bit of interference on the line, and so it took Miles a second to realize that Tristan was laughing at him. 

“Oh, haha,” he grumped, even as a smile spread on his face. “Sure, make fun of poor little exile boy.” 

“Is that the title of the book you’re writing? Poor little exile boy?”

Miles snorted. “No, smartass, but maybe I’ll make it the title of my autobiography and dedicate a whole chapter to the terrible, no-good boyfriend, who made my life a living hell.”

“Hm,” Tristan said, the low sound making Miles shiver in anything but cold. “Speaking of making your life hell, I kind of sent you another pic.”

“What, another diploma?” Miles snarked, putting the call on speaker and opening his messages. “Did you get a PhD while you were at it, maybe a couple of bachelor degrees on the side…?” He trailed off. The picture staring back at him was a selfie Tristan had taken. 

His dark hair was longer than Miles had ever seen it, and it curled wildly around his face. Blue eyes seemed to twinkle at him, and the smile on Tristan’s face was a very attractive combination of shy and come-hither that hit Miles right in the gut. 

It was a nice picture, a great one even, but what stood out most from it was the piece of paper Tristan was holding up next to his face. 

“Is that…?” Again, his voice refused to work. He swallowed a couple of times. “That looks like a plane ticket.”

“It is.” 

Miles tilted his head back and stared up into the grey, overcast sky. “Tristan, I need you to tell me what this means. Be very direct. Treat me like an imbecile - or better, treat me like I was Owen.”

Tristan was laughing again and he sounded so much like the carefree, cheeky boy Miles had fallen in love with that his throat grew tight with longing. 

“I’m pretty sure even my idiot brother would have no trouble understanding this.”

“Tris.”

Another low chuckle. “It means I’m coming to London, Miles. I want to be with you, be close to you again, and maybe even figure out if there is still a chance for us to be, well, an us.” Tristan hesitated. Miles could hear him breathe through the phone. “That is, if you even want that still--”

“Yes,” Miles didn’t let him finish the sentence. “Of course I want that. I meant it when I told you that I missed you like crazy this last year. I can’t wait to see you again.”

“That’s very good to hear.”

It took Miles a moment to realize that the voice hadn’t come from the phone, but from behind him. Heart pounding in his chest, he let the phone sink and slowly turned around. 

Tristan looked even better than he had in the picture. He was dressed in a dark wool jacket that emphasized his slender frame and made his pale skin almost glow. There was no sign of the colored sunglasses he’d had to wear after the accident to help with his light sensitivity, and even just standing there, Miles could see how much better he was than the last time he’d seen him.

Smiling at him, Tristan tilted his head in an achingly familiar gesture. “You know, it would have really sucked if you’d said no to me coming here.”

Miles cleared his throat and shook his head. “There is no Miles, in any of the infinite universes making up time and space, that would ever say no to you.”

Blushing, Tristan took a step towards him. “You do have a way with words. Good thing you’re already a writer.”

“Not quite yet”, Miles answered, also taking a step. “But I’m working on it.” 

“Anything I can do to help?” Tristan’s voice was both teasing and serious. The step he took brought him almost within touching distance. 

“Actually, there is,” Miles murmured, and closed the gap between them. He couldn’t help but smile as Tristan’s familiar scent washed over him and he had to fight the urge to run a hand through those soft-looking locks. “Turns out I’m in desperate need of a muse.” 

Tristan’s answering smile was brilliant. “Well, isn’t that a coincidence,” he answered teasingly, eyes twinkling as he leaned in close. “Turns out I’m quite the inspiration.”

There was no way for Miles to hold back the burst of laughter bubbling up in him, not when it felt like finally the stars had aligned in his favor, and everything he had ever wanted was right there in front of him. 

Grabbing a gentle hold of Tristan’s waist, he pulled him forward, letting their bodies connect for the first time in what felt like a lifetime. Their breaths mingled, electricity sparked between them, but their lips had yet to touch. 

Miles sought and held Tristan’s gaze, making sure that his words were seen as well as heard. “I never stopped loving you. Not for one second.” He kept on talking when it seemed like Tristan was about to answer his bold statement, desperate to get out what he’d spent months mulling over in his head. “I’m sorry for all the times I made you feel like less than the amazing person you are, Tris, and I know there have been many of them--” 

Tristan was shaking his head, curls bouncing from the force of it. “Miles, no,” he interrupted, voice deep and sweet, sounding just like he had that day on the balcony, when he’d told Miles that he loved him for the first time. “No apologies, okay? There’s too much the two of us have reason to say sorry for - we’d never get to stop.” 

Miles acknowledged the truth of that with an amused head-tilt. “Not sure what you’ve got to apologize for, though,” he couldn’t help but half-say, half-ask, and Tristan was looking at him as if he was crazy. 

“How about not being there for you when you needed me the most?” he then said, so quietly that despite them being so close, Miles had to lean in to hear him. “How about being so caught up in my own life that I didn’t even notice how much you were struggling with what your Dad was putting you through? Or how about the fact that I pushed you away after the accident, because I couldn’t stand to have you see me at my worst? Or how about--”

Miles swooped in then, stopped the desperate flow of words with his lips, catching them and turning them into a gentle caress. “You were right,” he murmured into Tristan’s mouth, in between soft kisses. “No apologies necessary.”

They moved in impossibly closer, melting into each other, light kisses turning steadily deeper. Finally, when lack of oxygen drove them apart for more than the fraction of a second, Miles leaned his forehead against Tristan’s, savoring the feeling of completeness enveloping him. “Come on,” he murmured and pressed one last kiss to those temping lips. “Let’s go somewhere with less chance of getting caught in a compromising position.”

Tristan smirked at him, and lifted one eyebrow in a silent ‘oh, really?’ gesture. “And somewhere with central heating maybe?” he added hopefully, burrowing into Miles’ warmth. 

Miles nodded, but wasn’t ready to pull back quite yet, so they stood there for a few moments longer, wrapped around each other. 

When Tristan murmured something against his neck, Miles didn’t catch it at first. His brain was too overwhelmed by the endorphins flooding it. 

“Hm?” he hummed. He almost felt high, but in a nice, healthy way.

Tristan pulled back a little, seeking his gaze. “I said, that there is no Tristan, not in any of the infinite universes making up time and space, that ever stopped loving you, Miles Hollingsworth.”

This time, when they came together, their shared kiss felt like a promise they both very much intended to keep.


End file.
